Are some people written into your life before you ever meet them?
CHAPTER I & CHAPTER II & C1 — out now
Four Seasons of the Soul is one story told in eight songs — a cinematic love story between two souls finding each other across East and West, one season at a time. The story never says when they meet again. Only that they do.
Every chapter is a season of one bond. Not "relaxing," not "background" — a specific feeling at a specific hour: the first pull toward someone, the ache of nearness, the long distance between, and the memory that refuses to let go. Eight songs. One voice. One thread pulled a little tighter each time.
Summer
Summer — where it begins. The last light of late summer, and the question before doubt.
Autumn
Autumn — parting with grace: acceptance without bitterness; right person, wrong lifetime.
Winter — where distance is survived.
Winter
Spring
Spring — where faith is learned: quiet realization settling into no-drama certainty.
Summer
Summer, answered: the light finds its way back — widening into arrival. Not a loop. A return.
The Chapters
SUMMER
Where it begins, and where it returns
Out Now
· I · Are We Written in the Same Sky? — Out now.
The question that starts everything.
· VII–VIII — Arriving. Summer's light returns: the album's widening and arrival.
AUTUMN
Parting with grace
OUT NOW
· II · Maybe We Were Meant for Another Lifetime — Out now.
Right person, wrong time; acceptance without bitterness.
· C I · Between Seasons — Out now.
Seven instrumental pieces for reading, the commute, or the hour before sleep.
SPRING
Where faith is learned
Arriving
· V–VI — Arriving. Faith, settling into love without a single dramatic gesture.
Chapter I ended looking up at the same sky, not knowing if it was shared. That not-knowing is where the story lives.
Chapter II doesn't resolve it — it deepens it.
C I - Seven instrumental pieces for felt piano, written in the spaces between Chapters II and III of Four Seasons of the Soul.
Not quieter versions of anything. New rooms in the same house. It is built to let attention return: the album descends toward Return to Quiet, then closes with Stillness — a small rain-and-piano coda, like memory after the story has released.
Where to start
If you have six minutes: Return to Quiet. It does not stop. It goes under.
If you are ending the day: Return to Quiet, then Stillness.
If you want the plainest piece: The Same Sky. No bend, no slide.
If you have the evening: from First Light, in order.
Maybe We Were Meant for Another Lifetime.
The first chapter asked whether two people can be written into the same sky. The second — "Maybe We Were Meant for Another Lifetime" — doesn't answer it. It complicates it. Some distances aren't measured in miles, and some timing isn't ours to choose. This is the season where longing learns to live with hope. One voice. One thread pulled a little tighter. Out now.
Felt piano — the emotional core, always first.
Cello — warmth and grief in the same note.
No drums. No electronic percussion. Not a style — a rule. The goal is a mind that can rest, not one that has something to track.
Erhu — the Eastern string that bends and aches.
Đàn bầu — a single string that slides like a sigh.
Guzheng — bright, plucked, the sound of memory.
From the composer
"I wrote this season by starting with piano first, then the instruments that answer it, until the room finally went quiet. If it settled my own mind at the end of a long day, it was allowed to exist. That's the only test any of these songs has ever had to pass."